


The On Call Doctor

by LotteLenya



Series: The Good Doctor [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Doctor John, It's For a Case, M/M, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LotteLenya/pseuds/LotteLenya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Thank you? Thank you for what exactly?! For cleaning up after your failed BDSM sexcapade?” John’s face was flushed and his teeth were grit. He stood like a soldier and took deep breaths. </p><p>He didn’t miss, however, that Sherlock flinched visibly at the word “sex.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The On Call Doctor

"JOHN!" 

John was sitting cross legged on his bed pecking away at his laptop. He took a deep breath when he heard Sherlock shout his name. Nine times out of ten it was not important, by John's standards, but a rather life or death situation by Sherlock's. He waited. 

"John! Help, please!"

The "please" spurred John into action and he pushed the laptop aside, hustling down the stairs barefoot and wondering if he should have grabbed his gun. 

"Come quickly!" Sherlock yelled from his bedroom. 

John jogged into the room and froze at the sight before him. Sherlock was cutting a piece of thick rope from his bed post. That same rope was snaked around the ankle of a younger, handsome, barely clothed man who was wincing and holding his wrist. 

"His left hand, John!" Sherlock moved to the other ankle, sawing carefully through the rope. John shook himself and approached the man. 

"Hello," he said rather dumbly, "May I?"

The young man nodded and John took his wrist and turned it over gently. There was a dark bruise forming from the rope that traveled around the young man’s wrist. 

“Can you move your fingers?”

The man’s fingers twitched and he winced again, “I couldn’t a moment ago – they are tingling now.”

“Good,” John said, “That’s good.”

John tested the capillary refill of the man’s finger and took his pulse. He turned his wrist gentle from side to side. 

“Doesn’t seem like nerve damage-“

“BRILLIANT!” Sherlock interrupted John, grabbing his phone from the dresser to begin texting furiously and pacing at the bottom of the bed, “Thank you, John.”

John felt some combination of nausea, rage, confusion, and indignance roll through him in sickening waves. Before John could ask, Sherlock said, "The rope wasn’t nearly as tight as the knots suggested and the nerve damage was a ruse. He was scamming the system for the compensation! Lestrade has it from here. Thank you.”

Sherlock handed the young man a pile of clothes and swept into the living room, jumping onto the couch, leaving John alone with Sherlock’s apparent booty call. John took a breath and asked, “All right?”

The young guy looked up with a smile as he tied his shoe, “Ya, cheers,” he wiggled his fingers and showed himself out, calling over his shoulder, “Later, Sherlock!”

Sherlock replied with a twist of his hand in the air that John imagined he believed was the equivalent of walking a guest to the front door. He went back to typing furiously into his phone while John stared at the ropes still hanging from the bed posts. He felt light headed – had Sherlock just brought John downstairs to check up on his…who was that guy?

“Sherlock – what the hell just happened?”

Sherlock sighed dramatically, “I said thank you, didn’t I?"

“Thank you? Thank you for what exactly?! For cleaning up after your failed BDSM sexcapade?” John’s face was flushed and his teeth were grit. He stood like a soldier and took deep breaths. He didn’t miss, however, that Sherlock flinched visibly at the word “sex.”

“Who. Was. That…that boy?”

“Intern at the Yard. Tim. Tom. Something.”

“Start,” John bit back a scream, “at the beginning.”

Sherlock swung himself to look at John, “Are you…” he jumped up to study the doctor’s face, “You’re angry and…jealous?”

“I’m certainly angry,” John admitted honestly with clenched fists, wishing silently that he had shoes on. 

Sherlock blinked, “I needed to test a theory, and I didn’t think you would be amenable.”

It was John’s turn to blink, “You didn’t think I would be amenable to what?”

Sherlock spoke slowly as though John may be drunk, “To being tied down, of course. You don’t like your movements limited or giving up control. Besides, the strain on your shoulder-“

John interrupted him, “Sherlock, forget it,” he rubbed his temples. 

“I’m not,” Sherlock paused, “fucking him. Nor are we engaged in any kind of a bondage, domination, submission, or masochistic relationship. It was for a case.”

John flinched when Sherlock said “fucking,” and flushed straight to his toes. 

“Well, I’m glad you understand acronyms if not the laws of social acceptability,” John mumbled, “It’s fine…I don’t..whatever.”

“He couldn’t feel his hand – I thought it was an overreaction, but I didn’t actually want to damage him. I just needed to test out the knots.”

“You know it’s a bit not good to call your flatmate into your bedroom when you’ve a bloke tied to your bed?”

“I didn’t call my flatmate. I called my doctor.”

“Right.”

“Sorry,” Sherlock mumbled and if John wasn’t still reeling from the sight of Sherlock wielding a knife and chopping restraints off his captive, he may have been alarmed at the apology. 

“Why was he…his clothes?” John flopped into his chair, letting some of the tension in his body release.

Sherlock dropped a piece of paper into john’s lap as he walked by to make tea. It was a rough sketch of a person with ropes secured in various locations, upper arms, chest, etc. 

“I began with the least intrusive knots, but what matched most closely. If I didn’t get the information I needed I may have continued and skin is better than clothes for the results.”

John decided he needed a drink stronger than tea, although he was impressed that Sherlock was making it for a change without being asked or threatened. 

Sensing the tension between them had died down Sherlock tried with a charming smile, “I do still have some questions that could use further investigation.”

John scoffed and almost laughed, “Call your intern back.”

Sherlock’s phone buzzed, “That’ll be Lestrade.”

The text read, “WHAT DID YOU DO TO TED?”

“Ah, Ted,” Sherlock smirked and pocketed the phone. He spared a glance at John who had closed his eyes and lay his head back on the chair. 

“Don’t yell at me,” he said standing in front of his flatmate, “but I don’t think I understand why you were mad.”

John peeled his eyes open and softened when he saw Sherlock shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

“Sorry, I’m not mad, you were right to call me. I was just surprised.”

“I didn’t think you’d let me…I thought I was being considerate.”

“You’re right, I overreacted. It’s fine.” John said with growing sincerity. 

Sherlock pulled his hands behind his back and said, “You are my partner, John. Ted was just a tool.”

John smiled at that, “Just next time involve me from the start, you could have really hurt the lad.”

Sherlock nodded, “Yes, doctor.”


End file.
